


Waiting for Dark

by mrhiddles



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Thorki - Freeform, dark world feels, death feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-28
Updated: 2013-04-28
Packaged: 2017-12-09 20:43:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/777794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrhiddles/pseuds/mrhiddles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Would you be terribly upset. If I died,” Loki asked him that night, the words passing as a shadow on the knuckles he cradled against his lips.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waiting for Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Life has been a bit of a shock recently, and I just needed to write before Fanime rolls around and I get swept back up in work prep.

_“I was a heavy heart to carry_   
_My feet dragged across the ground_   
_And he took me to the river_   
_Where he slowly let me drown”_

_Florence and the Machine – Heavy In Your Arms_

 

One night, many long years in the past, Thor and Loki had lain side by side, whispering in the dark. Quiet thoughts and murmurs that Thor held in the space beside his heart, beating for all the many collective years of many different worlds. For they were gods and their memories were long.

Did Loki still remember?

\--

“Would you be terribly upset. If I died,” Loki asked him that night, the words passing as a shadow on the knuckles he cradled against his lips.

Thor squeezed his hand, for the question was a question plain, but sounded like a statement. They were young, too young for such dire conversation, but Loki spoke like he knew something Thor did not. He oft spoke like that.

“There are no words for what I would be if you died, brother.” Because there weren’t.

If Loki died...Thor could barely fathom such a thing. For Loki was Loki, ever changeable and evasive, like the fastest running stream. His brother was the sea against a shore and the trickle through a cavern ceiling, leading the eyes up to light, to the sky. To air, and life. Loki was too much himself to ever be gone from the world.

Loki was his life.

Loki smiled like he knew everything and Thor felt he knew nothing in the face of his brother. Not when they were twined so close in the comfort of their bed, for they were children. Brothers.

Loki was life in that moment and Thor felt small. So, so small.

\--

They were young men together, when betrayal sat not so surface-fresh like glass and more like lava, melted into their bones and settling in their stomachs, and Loki sought to be killed.

And Thor welcomed the chance to grant it, for it was his duty alone to fulfill. If Loki were to die, be it by his hand and no one else’s. For they were brothers, and Loki was his life.

It was here, upon a Midgardian ruin, that Loki voiced a question he had not asked in centuries. With Mjolnir upon his skull and the trace of Thor’s tears sliding down his brow and stinging green eyes. Thor could not do it.

“What would you have of me then, Thor?” Loki asked, all spitting venom.

The brother in him was there, like a spark of light, reflecting through the vicious shades that were vivid enough to burn. It was raining. Mud ran slick on their skin and clothes.

“Would that you could kill me. Then we would be done with this. Thor, the mighty thunder god, cannot hold true to his one valiant promise. His vow.” Thor reached down and yanked Loki’s hair back, longer and wild in the horrendous weather that plagued their battleground. Loki smiled through it. “Would you be upset, then, _brother_?”

Thor roared and threw Mjolnir down into the mud with a great splash and crack of the earth and then he had Loki’s skull between his palms, shoving him into the muck and mire and spitting wrath into his face.

“You foolish, ungrateful, Jotun!” And oh, how he wanted to unspeak those words, but they were out now and Loki was more still and silent and awed in the face of Thor than he had been in years.

They were young men yet.

Loki shivered. “There it is. There you are. Thor, the giant slayer.”

Loki shrugged away once Thor’s grip went limp. The fight was gone from him, from them both it seemed. Loki sat there, chin in the curl of three fingers as his gaze went before him, out into the rain and the dark.

“Do you think, then,” he muttered. “That we will be able to do this? Will you ever bring that hammer down upon my skull?” There was a breath and Thor felt his skin alight like bright fire. He closed his eyes when Loki leaned nearer, hot breath upon his ear. “Or must we resort to seek after our own lives? Perhaps with a blade, or with poison, or...”

Thor felt the proud line of his brother’s nose press hard into his temple, lips skimming his cheek.

“Loki,” he started to say.

But when he opened tired eyes, Loki was gone.

\--

He waits now. Waits for the ruins of Asgard to finally relent their struggle of endless years and give in, crumble, collapse atop him. To end it.

He waits for Loki.

He has not seen his brother in nearly ten thousand years, yet still he waits.

Thor is old now, and crumbling in on himself. Mjolnir is still ever proud in his grip, though the lustre of battle has grown thin in him. Thor has ruled for millennia, yet here he is, waiting for death. For the dark.

Waiting for Loki.


End file.
